


World Cup

by Myx



Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Established Relationship, FIFA World Cup 2018, M/M, World Cup, this is silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15249888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/pseuds/Myx
Summary: The Manager has a confession to make to his Driver after watching the 2018 FIFA World Cup.





	World Cup

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything.

"Manager, can you come here?" The Driver called into the den, where the Manager was doing his, as he called it, "Manager time.". 

"In a minute, the match is almost over!" The Manager responded in a rushed, almost excited manner.

The Driver sighed, and took a seat in the one of the plush chairs in the sitting room next to the den. He didn't really understand why the Manager had, all of taken a sudden interest in football. Sure, England was doing quite well in the World Cup, but it seemed so wildly out of character for the Manager to be into sport. Previous versions of "Manager time" had been dedicated to writing, learning how to play the ukulele, and miscellaneous artistic development, like abstract finger painting. More importantly, it had been rather infrequent and the Manager wasn't at all secretive about it as he always did little 'recitals' for the Driver after he felt accomplishment enough to preform or show off something that he had learned how to do.Now, on the other hand, it seemed like "Manager Time" had become far more frequent and infinitely more secretive. It also seemed to be correlated with the England matches.   

The Driver's musings were stopped by the Manager's cheers and a giddy, giggly rendition of Three Lions. The Manager emerged from the den, still giggling, eyes shining, and for whatever reason, had a slight flush in his upper cheeks.

"Happy, I take it?" The Driver asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the Manager.

"You have no idea, Driver." The Manager wrapped his arms around the Driver's torso, and kissed his hair. He ended the hug and continued, "England just made it to the semifinals of the World Cup, Driver! This hasn't happened in  _forever!_ "

"That's wonderful, Manager! But, and I apologise for being so direct, but why on Earth do you care so much? And why so sudden?"

The Manager's already flushed cheeks darkened as he lied, "No reason."

The Driver clicked his tongue. "Uh huh." He led the Manager to the siting area and continued, "You can tell me if you feel comfortable with telling me, Manager. Despite my banter, I am quite interested in your fascination with the World Cup, and England."

The Manager took a deep breath and replied, "I-I want you to grow a beard again, Driver."

"I mean, I suppose I  _could_. I just haven't for quite a while 'cause you never said anything about it, good or bad, so that's why I've been shaving. Looking back, that was not terribly communicative of me; I'll be better."

The Manager licked his lips. "Then yes, Driver, I want you to grow a beard again, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, of course it is, but, why are you telling me this now?"

The Manager's greyish eyes darted around the room as if he was searching for the right words. "Uh, its just that I think you would look good with it. That's all."

"Of course I would look good with a beard. You can have a lot of fun with one, too-"

"Drop it, Driver. There's a time and a place for such conversation, and I fear that now is neither the time nor the place for it." The Manager took a deep breath, and, as he exhaled, brought his eyes up to the Driver's eyes, until they were making direct eye contact. "And, if I'm being honest, I also want you to grow one because of Gareth Southgate's beard and while you  _sorta_ look like him, I guess, I don't want to keep thinking that I'm cheating on you when I look at him during the England matches as he's ever so gorgeous. I know I'm not cheating on you by doing that, but I just  _feel_ like I am."

The Driver blinked a few times and then pulled out his mobile. A few taps later, he resumed eye contact with the Manager. "Uh, I don't even look like him, Manager, but do you feel better?"

"Yeah, I know he doesn't look like you, Driver, but that's why I said  _kinda_ looks like you; I figured it was more of an excuse that way. But, yeah, I do feel loads better."

"Well, after looking up this chap," he began, holding up his mobile, "I can  _certainly_ see why you've suddenly taken an interest in England." The Driver smirked and kissed the Manager's temple.

"Sod off, Driver." The Manager replied, blushing fire truck red, and pretending to pout. 


End file.
